


Hey, brother do you still believe in one another?

by ussihavelovedthestarstoofondly



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:42:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23677075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ussihavelovedthestarstoofondly/pseuds/ussihavelovedthestarstoofondly
Summary: This is an AU where the war ended and everyone is alive because fuck cannon and fuck order 66.  Brotherly fluff and angst.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 117





	Hey, brother do you still believe in one another?

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments literally give me life.   
> come scream at me on tumblr at @icanbringyouincold

Fives jerks as he feels someone move next to him. A hand reaches out and pats his shoulder, squeezes gently. 

“S’ jus’ me,” Echo murmurs, leaving his arm wrapped around Fives as he finishes adjusting and settling into his new position. Fives tries to take a deep breath, tries to force himself to calm down but he  _ can’t _ . He can feel Echo waking up more as he realizes that Fives’ breathing isn’t slowing down. 

“Gotta take a piss,” Fives murmurs, slipping out of the bed to walk towards the bathroom. He and Echo both know that he’s not coming back to bed, but Echo won’t say anything today. There’s days to argue and days to let him go, and Echo always seems to know which is which. Fives feels bad leaving his vod alone, but he can’t sit still anymore. 

He knows Echo will forgive him, but that’s never been the problem. 

The air on Naboo always seems to be sticky, clinging to his skin. Well, it always seems to be that way when the idea of anything touching his skin makes him want to explode. He stands outside on the back patio that Kix and Jesse had made one weekend, and tries to breathe. It doesn’t work. Staring at the jungle and the way that the weak light filtering over the horizon doesn’t reach the bottom of the trees remind him too much of the dark forests of Umbara and all he can taste is the cloying scent of over-heated DC15’s and blood and burning skin and muscle, and Fives turns back into the house. He pulls on a pair of jeans off the floor outside the laundry room, he’s pretty sure that they’re actually Rex’s, and takes off down the road, hands shoved into his pockets. 

There’s nobody on the road this early. And, at this hour, he’s not even sure that the place will be  _ open _ but it’s worth the trip even if it’s closed if only because he’s  _ moving _ . He doesn’t expect to see anyone on the road, even in the middle of the day, because out this far there’s only farms and they’re the last one on the road. 

He’s a little startled at the open door he finds upon arriving at the bakery-cafe. He’s always a little surprised that it exists out this far from Theed, but there’s a little center that’s cropped up here. Local farmers flock to this place, so he supposes it makes sense that the baker would do well providing two main things the farmer’s don’t grow: caff and bread. 

The scent of warm bread helps bring him back down to the surface of the planet, makes him feel a little more like he’s living in  _ this _ body and not like he’s still back on Umbara, realizing that he  _ killed _ some of his brothers. He shakes his head like he hopes that the physical action will result in the memories falling out of his head and shattering across the front steps of the bakery. He presses the bell on the counter. 

“I’ll be there in just a minute!” The lilting feminine voice calls from deeper in the building, where the ovens are. 

“Ok,” Fives says because he thinks it would be rude to not respond. She bolts out of the kitchen moments later, rubbing still-damp hands down the front of her apron. 

“Heya,” she says. “What can I get for you this morning?” She’s smiling, soft and welcoming and her eyes are shining and Fives can look at her and for the first time ever he thinks she’s someone who sees him as a  _ person _ . 

“Um. Bread?” He asks. She tilts her head, and then gestures to the case full of loaves of bread and the handwritten tags in front of them. The handwriting is messy and smudged in some places, like she was rushing through it. 

“What kind of bread? Just for you or for someone else? You’ve got a couple brothers?” she asks. Fives isn’t surprised that she’s heard about the house full of broken soldiers at the end of the road. 

“For all of us I guess. I’ve got seven brothers,” he says. 

“Yeah? I only had two siblings. They were plenty loud though,” she says, leaning forward on the counter. 

“They can get kind of loud sometimes but they’re my brothers,” he says. For a split second, just long enough that Fives isn't sure he even  _ saw _ it, but for half a second Fives swears he sees something dark and cold flash across the sunshine in her face. 

“So feeding all seven of you. What are you going to use the bread for? Sandwiches? Toast? Plain with butter? Dipping in soup?” 

“Sandwiches. I think. We don’t know how to make… soup.” He says. 

“Ask Prescha. He knows some good recipes,” she tells Fives as she grabs two loaves of bread and slides them into a bag for him. 

“Here. Good sandwich bread. All your brothers should like it,” she tells him, smiling. Fives notices the spattering of freckles on the golden skin across her nose and cheek bones. 

“How much?” He asks. She shakes her head. 

“Consider it a welcome to the neighborhood. You’ll have to try the tea next time you come back,” she tells him, leaning on her elbows on the counter. 

“I don’t like tea,” Fives says, and suddenly he can  _ taste _ the paper of the ration tea that the GAR gave out, and he remembers survival training and sipping on it praying that he and Echo didn’t freeze to death. 

“You haven’t tried my tea. Come back some time and I’ll prove it.” She tilts her head as if to dare him to say no. 

“Tomorrow?” He asks. She smiles. 

“Consider it set.” He nods, and steps out into the early morning light. 

It isn’t until he’s almost a mile down the road the Fives realizes that he didn’t ask the baker’s name. It isn’t until he’s another mile down the road that he realizes he just got through an entire interaction  _ without  _ his brothers and didn’t have a panic attack. 

Fives sits down on the side of the road, and takes a deep breath. He smells dirt, petrichor, fresh bread. He closes his eyes. Tilts his face up. He takes slow, deep breaths, tries to keep his breathing even, tries to pretend he can’t feel the way his heart is picking up speed, pounding against his rib cage. Fives opens his eyes, realizes that there are tears on his face. 

How can he take the step forward into the future when he’s sure he’s going to be stepping on a landmine? 

***

Jesse finds Fives standing just off the patio, staring aimlessly down the sloping hill into the thick forest at the bottom. 

“What’s in your head, ori’vod?” He asks, quiet. He sees the way Fives flinches sometimes, and the way Fives tries to hide it. 

“Death,” Fives responds. It hurts to hear Fives say that. Jesse  _ knows _ that it’s a true statement: they all carry graves inside them, graves they likely won’t ever get rid of. But Fives is always better at hiding it. At least, to most of them. Jesse’s pretty sure Fives tells Echo about it, and sometimes Rex, but Fives tries too damn hard to be the touchstone for the rest of them, the thing that they can all grab onto when it feels like they’re circling away from their new reality. 

He leans his shoulder into his older brother, and hands him a cup of caff. 

“Mine too,” Jesse tells him. Fives dips his chin as he accepts the caff. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

“You’re not a damn lighthouse, Fives,” Jesse tells him. “You don’t have to be some unreachable beacon of hope. Your head’s full of bodies and dead brothers just like the rest of us. You can’t be a lighthouse when you’re another ship stuck in the storm.” Fives nods, and Jesse hears him swallow. 

“I’m your ori’vod, J. A lighthouse is exactly what I’m supposed to be.” Jesse sighs, shaking his head as he leans his forehead against Fives’ shoulder. 

“Would you ask Rex to be that for you?” Jesse asks him. He hears Fives sigh a little, and Jesse smiles. Fives  _ hates _ it when his vod’ika are right. He’s the ori’vod, he always tells them, so he has to be right. Jesse just shakes his head on his brother's shoulder. 

“Want to come to the little town with me?” Fives asks. Jesse pulls back enough to look at him. 

“Why?” He asks. 

“I promised the bread lady I’d try her tea,” Fives tells him. Jesse tilts his head. 

“You don’t like tea.”

“I know.” Fives doesn’t elaborate further, so Jesse nods. 

“Yeah, I’ll come.” 

***

The small store that Fives brings him to is significantly less  _ store  _ and significantly more  _ cafe _ . Or at least, a cafe based on what Anakin has described as a cafe, a description which Anakin had heard from Padmé. 

A small bell over the door jingles, and Jesse hides his knee-jerk reaction of a sound over his head by stepping closer to Fives, gently bumping into him as they step inside. 

“Hey,” the baker says, grinning at him. “This one of the brothers you mentioned?” she asks. Jesse finds himself being oddly shy, and almost  _ hiding _ behind Fives. Fives doesn’t acknowledge it and Jesse’s thankful for that. 

“Yeah. Jesse,” Fives says. “My name is Fives. I think I forgot to tell you that yesterday.” She grins at him. 

“My name’s Maevattana, but please, for everyone’s sake, call me Mae.” Fives scoffs. 

“Ok, Mae,” Fives tells her. “I think you said you were going to make me like tea.” She grins at him, and waves her hand at the stools along the bar. 

“That I did,” she says, turning to bend down behind the counter and reappearing with two cups as Jesse and Fives sit down at the bar. Jesse leans his shoulder into Fives’. They’re all bad at being out in public, Jesse knows. Learning that not everyone they cross paths with is going to kill them is a slow learning curve. She hums as she sets the cups down. Jesse watches the easy way she moves around behind the counter, the gentle, assured way she fills up the space. 

Jesse wishes he and his brothers knew how to feel comfortable in their space like she clearly does here. Jesse is thankful for the house that Padme gave them. For the land and the fact that there’s no one for miles. 

What she didn’t think about, what Anakin and Ahsoka didn’t think about, was that he and his brothers don’t know how to occupy a house. They use the beds, and they sleep together and they make it work as a shelter and safety but it’s much more primal than a home. Kind of like a den, Jesse thinks. A place where they can find safety and family, but that they could up and leave at any point. They don’t know how to fill the space between walls with good memories and laughter. All the pictures that have been hung up, Ahsoka hung up for them. 

They appreciate it, appreciate that their friends care, but Jesse wishes that someone could teach them how to be a family, and how to make a home. 

He doesn’t jump when Mae sets the cups down in front of them, but it’s a near thing. She smiles, soft and warm at them. 

“Go on,” she says, gesturing to the cups. Jesse glances at Fives who takes a tentative sip. Jesse watches as Fives eyebrows raise. Mae grins at them, soft and gentle and warm and all the things the clones had been denied. 

Jesse takes a sip. It is  _ good _ . It’s not caff, but honestly he and his brothers would probably be better off if they drank less caff. 

“Good,” she says, knocking twice on the counter before stepping away to greet another customer with a cheery smile and a first-name basis. Jesse wonders if he and his brothers will ever get that kind of familiarity. 

***

Wolffe never liked the cold. Had always hated it after the cold of the sleeping pods on Kamino, bacta was always cold, and Wolffe had always hated it even worse after Khorm. 

So he’s surprised by how much he  _ doesn’t _ hate the mountains around Aldera. He thinks it might be because his brothers are here, and it might be because they’re not fighting for their lives everytime they turn around. 

It might be the way Bail Organa had readily welcomed them in, the way Breha had  _ gleefully _ stocked their house with groceries and showed up every sunday for dinner, and how she sent one of her cooks out to teach them how to cook. How she only ever stocks, or allows Devedon, the unfortunate and yet extremely patient cook Breha had assigned to them to bring non-caffeinated caff to them. It helps with their anxiety, she tells them. 

Whatever it is, it makes it so Wolffe doesn’t flinch when one of his brother’s drops his head in between Wolffe’s shoulder blades. A cup of caff appears in his field of view. He grabs it, and pulls it out of his vod’ika’s grasp. 

“Thanks, Sinker,” Wolffe says. His brother hums, and leaves his head planted into Wolffe’s back. 

“Breha expects you to make that bantha steak thing tonight,” Sinker tells him. Wolffe sighs, feels his mouth twitch. 

“Yeah, I heard,” he tells him. Sinker chuckles and Wolffe feels half a smile on his face. Hearing his brothers laugh makes him feel like, one day, he’ll be able to laugh with them. Sinker shakes his head, straightening up and moving to stand next to Wolffe to watch the pink and oranges of sunrise stain the white snow on the mountains. 

“She’ll like whatever you make. You could char it and she’d still say it was amazing,” Sinker tells him. Wolffe snorts. 

“I wonder if General Plo did some sort of mind trick on her to make her love us,” Wolffe says. Sinker snorts this time. 

“I don’t think anyone can make her  _ do _ anything,” Sinker says. Wolffe nods. 

“You’re probably right,” He murmurs. Neither of the brothers move when the door slides open. Boost comes to stand on his other side, leaning into Wolffe’s shoulder. Wolffe rolls his eyes when he realizes his vod’ika isn’t wearing a shirt. 

“‘S cold,” Boost mutters. 

“Put on a shirt, di’kut,” Sinker murmurs. Boost makes a noise that conveys his distaste at being called an idiot, but he doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to lean his head on Wolffe’s shoulder and cuddle the cup of caff to his chest. Wolffe just sighs. He doesn’t want to reject his brothers’ affection but learning to accept it, to enjoy and embrace it is hard. 

***

Breha is  _ grinning _ at him, and it makes Wolffe… nervous despite the softness and affection in her gaze. 

“Are you happy here, Wolffe?” She asks. Wolffe opens his mouth to respond, but stops. Is he happy here? He’s not sure what happy means, or what it feels like. He shifts on his feet, stirring the steak in the pan in front of him.  _ Be honest, Wolffe, _ Plo had told him.  _ We cannot help if you are not honest. _

“I’m not sure what happiness is, your Majesty. I would need a frame of reference to provide an accurate answer,” he tells her. She hums, leaning against the counter next to him. 

“How many times will I have to ask you to call me Breha?” She asks. 

“Old habits die hard,” he says. She smiles again, watching over his shoulder as Comet, Warthog and Wildfire argue over a card game on the couch. Comet launches across the couch to tackle Wildfire while Warthog encourages them from the sidelines, cackling as he looks at his brothers’ cards. Wolffe rolls his eyes. 

“I think the best way I can describe happiness is that overwhelming feeling that feels like heat and pressure in your chest when you see your brothers as they are right now,” she says, gesturing to where Comet and Wildfire are realizing Warthog’s treachery and ganging up on him. Wolffe feels the way his face softens looking at his brothers and knowing that,  _ finally _ , they’re safe. He doesn’t have to worry about them surviving the night, he doesn’t have to worry about droids storming their camp tomorrow. 

Finally, he can relax and try to learn to be their brother rather than their commander, the man tasked with keeping them alive. It is a revelation every time he realizes it. 

“I don’t think I’m…” he stops. Bail and Breha are trying so hard to make sure he and his brothers are happy here, and his brothers are trying so hard to make sure he’s comfortable here and admitting that he’s not  _ happy _ feels like failure, feels unacceptable. 

“Wolffe.” Breha doesn’t sound sad, and that startles Wolffe. “It’s ok to not be ok, or happy.” Wolffe glances at the steak. 

“Dinner’s ready,” he tells her. She squeezes his shoulder. 

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” she tells him.

***

Kix doesn’t remember waking up, but Dogma’s in front of him, leaning Kix back against the headboard of the bed. 

“Hey,” Dogma murmurs, voice soft, brushing his fingers over Kix’s arms. “Hey, you’re ok.” Kix shivers, and can’t quite meet Dogma’s eyes. 

“I know they’re dead, vod’ika,” Kix murmurs. Dogma leans forward, presses his forehead against Kix’s. 

“I know,” Dogma tells him. Kix is still breathing hard, eyes darting around the room. Dogma glances at the clock on the nightstand. Jesse’s out walking along the edge of the forest, and Dogma heard Kix yelling from down the hall. He couldn’t just lay there and let his ori’vod suffer. 

“Do you trust me, ori’vod?” Dogma whispers, and in the darkness of five thirty seven in the morning, Dogma isn’t sure that Kix  _ does. _ Dogma was pointing his gun at Jesse and Fives: he was going to  _ shoot them _ , his ori’vod who would lay down their lives to keep him safe for a damn Jedi who was trying to kill them all. Dogma killed Krell in the end, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was ready to  _ kill _ his brothers, operating on blind faith under a man who tried to kill them all, who got them to kill each other. 

“Yes,” Kix mutters. Dogma feels relief wash over him, and presses his forehead harder against Kix’s. 

“Ok. Throw on some pants and shirt, brother.” Kix nods, and Dogma steps out. Kix looks unsteady as he steps out of his and Jesse’s room. Dogma doesn’t say anything about it, but it hurts anyway. He’s pretty sure that Kix was dreaming about Umbara. He might not have been, Dogma supposes, but it seems likely. Afterall, Medic Kix  _ killed _ some of his brothers on Umbara, and couldn’t save them. 

“Where are you taking me?” Kix asks. Dogma just bumps his shoulder into Kix’s. It still scares him sometimes, makes him flinch, when his shoulder runs into warm skin and not the click of their composite armor. 

“It’s a surprise,” Dogma tells him. Kix frowns. 

“I hate surprises,” Kix mutters. Dogma squeezes his forearm. 

“It’s a good one.” Kix frowns but doesn’t argue. 

The road into the little center is a long one. In the mornings, it’s objectively gorgeous. Gently rolling green hills with rivers of mist lying in the valleys between them, clusters of trees topping some of the hills like a bad haircut and linger on the west side of the road like a towering wall of green respite. The road itself is nice to walk in the morning because there’s still dew on it that makes it so dust doesn’t fly up at every step, but in the afternoon clouds of dust choke the road. It gets a little busier later in the day, too. And by busier Dogma means that you might see a farmer on the road and a few in their fields. 

What the road  _ isn’t _ , is scary or frightening.But Dogma can’t help it, and he doesn’t think any of his brothers can either. All he can think about is how they’re so exposed in the open, and how the rivers of mist could conceal enemies and how there could be someone hiding in the trees, lingering, with a rifle trained at them and their names on two of the bolts. 

“It should be pretty out here,” Dogma notes. Kix tilts his head to look at his little brother. 

“Yeah. It should be.” Dogma and Kix don’t say anything as they keep walking down the road, but Dogma thinks none of this probably needs to be said. The clones all carry the same graves inside of them: graves of their brothers. They all carry the same guilt, the same questions. Why did they live when their brothers  _ didn’t _ ? Why are Fives and Echo the only two left of their original squad? Why are the clones cursed to carry the war and battlefields and blood of dead brothers in their veins? They may not flinch on memories from the same battlefield, but they all  _ flinch _ . 

“This is a little town,” Kix says as they crest the last hill and see the tiny settlement sprawled before them. 

“Yep,” Dogma tells him. Kix raises an eyebrow at him, but follows him down and to the bakery anyway. The bell over the door jingles as Dogma pushes it open. 

“Two of my favorite boys!” Mae greets them. 

“Hey Mae. This is Kix,” Dogma tells her. She waves her hand at herself with a flourish. 

“I’m Mae, at your service!” She says. Dogma notices that when she smiles, the skin scrunches up around her eyes. He remembers that there’s a word for that, a word for the way happiness can imprint itself onto a person's face for eternity. He wonders if he and his brothers will ever have happiness stamped onto their faces, or if they’ll only have lines of anguish and pain. 

“Can we have the tea Fives and Jesse talked about?” Dogma asks her, sliding onto one of the stools at the bar. 

“Course, kiddo.” She turns to Kix. “And what about you, hon? Tea or something else?” 

“I’ll try the tea,” Kix says. She smiles at them, and Dogma notices those lines of happiness again. 

“Perfect,” she says, spinning away to start on the tea. 

***

Wolffe feels himself jerk when a heavy weight lands on him. 

“Relax, ori’vod,” Sinker murmurs. Wolffe does, sinking back into the couch as Sinker shuffles around enough to pull the fuzzy blanket that Ahsoka had sent to them back over them both, and also off of Wolffe enough that he’s not completely crushing his brother’s chest. 

Wolffe feels himself drift off again, breathing slowing down as Sinker relaxes and drops off into sleep on top of him. He’s seen his brothers cuddle on the couch before, but they’ve never done it with  _ him _ . It’s a novel thing, to be able to have one of his brothers this close. 

The whole situation that they’re in right now is strange enough that Wolffe finds himself pacing around the perimeter of the house during the darkest hours of the morning because he can’t convince himself that his brothers are safe and he doesn’t need to do perimeter checks, and that he isn’t going to sit next to Boost where Boost is on watch and talk quietly about the pizza place on Coruscant that always changes it’s menu and try to figure out what’s going to be next. 

But here? Here, Comet is curled up in a chair with a book that either Plo or Breha gave him. He grabbed a random one once after a nightmare the first week the Wolfpack moved into the house, and discovered that he  _ loves  _ fictional books with happy endings. Breha and Plo were quick to keep up his supply. 

Here, Wolffe and hear Plo’s famous patience extending itself in the kitchen as he tries to teach Boost and Wildfire how to make cupcakes. Wolffe’s pretty sure Plo is fighting a losing battle. 

He’s hot with the blanket, and his brother, and the fire that’s going in the fireplace, but with the fire he feels like Khorm can’t touch him. He feels  _ safe _ , surrounded by his brothers and study walls that he thinks they might be, very slowly, making into a home. 

Comet has ‘his’ chair that he reads in, and Wolffe has organized the kitchen, and Sinker has a section off a portion of the fridge where he keeps all the ingredients for the ridiculously good omelets that he makes, and Boost build a bench around the fireplace so that they could sit in it.

Here, Wolffe thinks, they can finally  _ be  _ the family, the brothers, they always told everyone they were. 

***

Cody can see Rex roll his eyes as he steps out onto the back patio of his house on Naboo. 

“Why are they yelling about Wolffe?” Cody asks. Rex sighs, and Cody  _ knows _ that sigh: it’s the sigh of an older brother who’s given up on whatever shenanigans his brothers have gotten into. 

“Echo and Dogma brought home a puppy that they found. They’re arguing what to name it. Wolffe is a top contender.” 

“He’ll  _ hate  _ that,” Cody says. Rex scoffs and Cody sees him sit down. 

“I gathered that was the point,” Rex tells him. Cody laughs. 

“Course it is. Fives can always get his brothers to do stupid shit.” 

“It wasn’t Fives this time. Jesse’s the culprit today,” Rex tells him. Cody laughs, leaning further back into the chair on his balcony. 

The view is pretty good, but he still hates it at night. The glass french doors let in too much light, and he feels exposed. He hates having his back to the door, and he hates having it facing the windows too. All around, it’s terrible. Except during the day, when he can sit on it in the light of day. 

“How are you, brother?” Rex asks. It makes guilt well up in Cody’s throat. He and Rex are the last of their batch, and it makes him sick to think about. Rex’s hair has gotten longer, Cody notes. It makes him look softer, younger, less angry. 

“I’m… functioning,” Cody eventually decides. Rex nods, tilts his head at his brother. 

“Do you want to come here?” He asks. Cody snorts. 

“I think Satine would have a conniption,” he says. He sees Rex raise an eyebrow. 

“Satine? Duchess of Mandalore?” Rex asks. 

“That’s the one.” 

“Please elaborate, vod,” Rex says. 

“When Kenobi brought us to Mandalore after the war, we all thought if anyone was going to hover, it would be him. He’s pretty excited about not having to hide his emotions anymore. He cried when Satine said yes to marrying him. But it ended up being  _ Satine _ who’s hovering. Kenobi knows that we’re alive, at least. He knows we need to learn how to be  _ people _ , separate from him and the war. But Satine has no such restraint. She sent us five frozen lasagnas, Rex. Five.” Cody watches as Rex opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Cody laughs at his brother. 

“It’s easier to just accept it and move on,” he says. Rex shakes his head. 

“Well, Padme and Anakin haven’t sent us any lasagnas, but the baker at a little bakery has sent over a farmer friend of hers who taught us some things. Prescha is the farmer, and let’s just say the less we say about his reaction to our cooking abilities, the better.” Cody laughs at that, watching his brother and the way the artificial sun shines off Sundari’s buildings. 

“Well, that’s better than us. We haven’t ever made anything, just put frozen stuff in the oven. 

“We’ll be ok, brother,” Rex tells him, and for the first time Cody thinks he believes him. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think we’ll be ok, too.”

***

“Satine.” Satine groans at her husband’s voice, rolling over to bury her face in his pillow. “Satine,” he says again, but this time he’s gently shaking her shoulder. 

“Yes, dear?” She says, hoping her tone conveys her annoyance with him. 

“I had an idea. We build a university here on Mandalore,” he says. 

“Ok,” she murmurs because if she says ok he’ll come to bed and they’ll be able to discuss it further in the morning when he has the ability to have a rational thought. 

“Great!” He whispers, excitedly, kissing her forehead. She’s asleep again too fast to realize that Obi-wan  _ doesn’t  _ come to bed. 

***

“That university that we were talking about?” Satine looks up and frowns at him. She’s in her sleepwear still, holding a cup of caff. Obi isn’t wearing a shirt, loose pants barely clinging to his hips, but his blue eyes are shining brighter than Mandalore’s blue desert sky. 

“The one you murmured about at two am?” 

“It was one am, but yes,” he says, practically bouncing as he gets a cup of caff and comes to sit next to her. “Well, I talked to Padme and Anakin about it last night.” 

“You mean early this morning? Did you wake them up?” He waves his hand.

“Semantics,” he promptly informs her. “And no, they were up with the twins. But they really like the idea, and said they would help with it and would host a secondary campus on Naboo if we wanted. They could teach agriculture there. Anyway, Anakin also had a good point. If we get the clones to enroll at the school, we can have readily and easily accessible mental health care for them. I walk talking to Shaak Ti, who’s back on Coruscant, and she’s saying that there’s been a major spike in clone suicides. We could help prevent that with this school! Satine, if you make all the clones Mandalorian citizens, we get them into the school for free as citizens. That will allow them to get training and education. They don’t know how to be people, they don’t know how to use a kitchen or how to repair a faucet, although most of them could probably figure it out, but then since they’re there, we could get them help! And at this university, they could get degrees so they could work, find jobs and maybe families! We could save the lives of men who fought and watched their brothers die to save the Republic! We owe them so, so much Satine.” Satine smiles at her husband, cupping his jaw and kissing him gently. 

“You’re such a dreamer, Obi,” she says. She sees the flash of disappointment in his eyes, recognizes that he thinks she’s not supporting it. “Is your idea that this university would be solely for clones?” She asks. Obi-wan shakes his head. 

“No, not just for them. It would be open to anyone, but there would be a special track available to clones that would catch them up on what they missed. Help them learn how to be people, and fast track them through all the education that they missed. Also, the mental health care that I told you about.” Satine nods, and tilts her head. 

“Has anyone else tried to unroll a program for the clones? Either school or health wise? And how would we convince them to come?” 

“I thought about that, and Padme had a good idea when I asked between Luke’s bouts of screaming. Her idea was that Anakin and probably convince the 501st to come, Plo can convince the Wolfpack, and I can convince Cody, Waxer, and Boil. Then when other clones see that their brothers like it, they’ll come too. And I think a key will be having the mental health stuff everywhere but making sure it’s almost not acknowledged so that the clones go to that on their own. And Shaak Ti is working with Kit Fisto and Mace Windu on a mental health and housing program on Coruscant.” Satine nods, considering her husband. Then, she grins at him. Bright and wide and shining. 

“Obi-wan, I think that’s a brilliant idea,” she murmurs. Obi-wan kisses her. 

***

“I still don’t understand why we’re here,” Rex murmurs, leaning into Wolffe. 

“I don’t either. If Cody knows, he’s not spilling.” Wolffe raises an eyebrow at Rex. 

“Any guesses?” He asks. Rex shakes his head as they walk into the dining room of Satine and Obi-wan’s palace. The Duchess and Duke of Mandalore had requested their presence at the castle for something that they’d both been cagey about. Anakin had been equally cagey about it when Rex had tried to press for details. 

“Rex! Wolffe!” Kenobi greets them. “We’re so glad you could come.” 

“Of course, sir,” Rex says. Kenobi shakes his head. 

“Don’t bother with the sir’s Rex. Obi-wan is just fine,” he says. Rex feels something that might be shock running through his system. 

Dinner is pleasant, and Rex thinks he can see the hovering in Satine that Cody was talking about. Being able to see Cody and Wolffe makes something that had been tight and painful in his chest finally relax. His brother’s are ok. 

“We didn’t just invite you for catching up, while that has been lovely,” Satine tells them. The clones glance between each other, and don’t find any answers. 

“Ok,” Cody eventually says. 

“Obi-wan brought up the idea to me of creating a university for clones on Mandalore,” Satine says. The clones look between each other, frowning. 

“Would it be only for clones?” Wolffe asks. 

“No. It would be open to Mandalorian citizens,” Satine tells them. 

“But part of it would cater to clones,” Wolffe presses. 

“Yes. It would function as a regular university, but it would have a section for playing catchup for clones. Basic stuff from how to fix a faucet to how to an accelerated track to teach you what most children learn in their schooling.” Rex glances at his brothers, and sees them thinking about it. 

“How would Mandalorian citizens react? A university that caters to non-mandalorian students?” Rex sees Satine and Obi-wan glance at each other. 

“I would open up the option for claiming Mandalorian citizenship to all clones.” Rex feels his eyebrows shoot up. 

“Why are you going over this with us?” Cody eventually asks. 

“Because we want you three and your squads to be the first clone students at the university. We think a big percentage of the student body will be clones telling their brothers that the university is a good thing, that they get support and that it’s not just them being used again.” Rex leans back in his chair, staring at the table in front of him. 

“That’s a lot of pressure. What if we don’t agree?” Wolffe asks. 

“It’s a choice. You don’t have to come, and also you don’t have to like it. If you don’t like it, we want to know why. Gentlemen, what you and your brothers did for the Republic has been overlooked and trivialized for too long. We can never repay you the debt owed to you, but we want to at least start,” Obi-wan tells them. Rex glances at Cody and Wolffe. 

“I’ll ask my brothers,” Rex says. Obi-wan and Satine nod. 

“Thank you,” Satine tells him. 

***

Rex honestly can’t believe he was ever  _ worried _ about him and his brother’s attending the University of Inclusion that Satine and Obi-wan had set up on Mandalore. From where he’s standing next to Anakin at the grill, he can see Kix and Coric deep in a discussion that has Sache and Rabe looking horrified. The two clone medics had met at the university, and had become close. 

Fives is talking with Mae and Padme off to one side, getting very animated about something that Rex can’t catch. He’s pretty sure it’s related to one of Fives’ kindergartners. Boost, Comet, Echo and Jesse are deeply entrenched in what sounds like a very heated conversation about bantha burgers and if Anakin is  _ qualified _ to grill them with Plo and Obi-wan. Cody is sitting in the grass with Hardcase and Tup, laughing as Leia tries to braid blades of grass into Tup’s hair. Wolffe the loth-wolf that Echo and Dogma brought home is laying next to them. Dogma is in the kitchen with Waxer and Boil, and Rex can hear them arguing over the salad. 

This is what family is, Rex thinks. This is the happy ending people always talk about. 

“Leia told me you're her favorite this morning,” Anakin tells him. Rex grins at his old General. 

“I know I am,” he says. Anakin shakes his head, laughing. 

“What Satine and Obi-wan did is pretty amazing,” he says. Rex nods. 

“Yes it is,” Rex says. He knows Anakin’s looking for more information, wants to know about the counseling program, about the Veterans of the Clone War and it’s Victims program that Dogma and Shaak Ti are working on. Rex grins at Anakin. 

“You’ll have to ask Dogma about that program, Anakin,” he says. Anakin groans. 

“Come on, give me the condensed version! Talking to him will take hours!” Rex just laughs. 

“Yes it will. You enjoy that,” He says. Anakin groans again. 

Later, when it’s just the clones around the fire in the backyard roasting marshmallows, and Boost and Fives are seeing how many times they can call Wolffe ‘human-Wolffe’ before he explodes, Rex leans his shoulder into Cody’s. 

“Told you we’d be ok, brother,” he murmurs. Rex sees the flash of a smile on Cody’s face. 

“You were right, Rex. We’re ok,” he says. Rex grins at him, and they turn back to where Waxer is trying to get Comet to relinquish the bag of marshmallows.  _ We’re ok _ . 


End file.
